‘You need fear nothing from Clara,’ said Dalrymple, with some touch of anger in his voice.

’Of course you will say so.  I can understand that very well.  And it is natural that you should wish to be with her.  Pray go.’

Then he sat beside her, and took her hand, and endeavoured to speak to her so seriously, that she herself might become serious, and if it might be possible, in some degree contemplative.  He told her how necessary it was that she should have some woman near her in her trouble, and explained to her that as far as he knew her female friends, there would be no one who would be so considerate with her as Clara Van Siever.  She at one time mentioned the name of Miss Demolines; but Dalrymple altogether opposed the notion of sending for that lady—­expressing his opinion that the amiable Madalina had done all in her power to create quarrels between Mrs Broughton and her husband and between Dobbs Broughton and Mrs Van Siever.  And he spoke his opinion very fully about Miss Demolines.  ‘And yet you liked her once,’ said Mrs Broughton.  ’I never liked her,’ said Dalrymple with energy.  ’But all that matters nothing now.  Of course you can send for her if you please; but I do not think her trustworthy, and I will not willingly come in contact with her.’  Then Mrs Broughton gave him to understand that of course she must give way, but that in giving way she felt herself to be submitting to ill-usage which is the ordinary lot of women, and to which she, among women, had been specially subjected.  She did not exactly say as much, fearing that if she did he would leave her altogether; but that was the gist of he plaints and wails, and final acquiescence.

‘And are you going?’ she said, catching hold of his arm.

’I will employ myself altogether and only about your affairs, till I see you again.’

‘But I want you to stay.’

’It would be madness.  Look here;—­lie down till Clara comes or till I return.  Do not go beyond this room and your own.  If she cannot come this evening I will return.  Good-bye now.  I will see the servants as I go out, and tell them what ought to be told.’

‘Oh, Conway,’ she said, clutching hold of him again.  ’I know that you despise me.’

’I do not despise you, and I will be as good a friend to you as I can.  God bless you.’  Then he went, and as he descended the stairs he could not refrain from telling himself that he did in truth despise her.

His first object was to find Musselboro, and to dismiss that gentleman from the house.  For though he himself did not attribute to Mrs Van Siever’s favourite any of those terrible crimes and potentialities for crime with which Mrs Dobbs Broughton had invested him, still he thought it reasonable that the poor woman upstairs should not be subjected to the necessity of either seeing him or hearing him.  But Musselboro had gone, and Dalrymple could not learn from the head woman-servant whom he saw, whether before going he